


pomegranate seed kisses

by peachmaisie



Category: The Punisher (TV 2017)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Blood, Eventual Smut, F/M, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-23
Updated: 2018-02-25
Packaged: 2019-03-21 23:54:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,291
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13751853
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peachmaisie/pseuds/peachmaisie
Summary: Frank would have to have been a fucking moron to not know who Karen Page was.She was like a legend around these parts, New York had the devil running across rooftops and bulletproof men, ninjas running around like they owned the damn place but what scared them most of all was the lady with all the guns.(Or: Frank meets Karen who is New York's most wanted criminal, wanted for a plethora of impressive murders. He's in town to take care of some of his own business and their worlds collide.)





	1. Chapter One: The Beginning

Frank would have to have been a fucking moron to not know who Karen Page was.

She was like a legend around those parts, New York had the devil running across rooftops playing as god and bulletproof men, ninjas running around like they owned the damn place but what scared them most of all was the lady with all the guns. Some said you could hear her heels against the pavement from miles away, the gentle _click, click, click_ that could drive a man to insanity.

Some said she killed her brother, that had never been confirmed but he wasn’t around anymore to tell his side of the story so it might as well have been true.

Hell’s Kitchen was her playground, her shooting range and he respected that. He’d seen her work, men with their guts splayed out on display like an elaborate flower bouquet, bullet holes right between the eyes. She was a damn good shot, he wouldn’t want to be on the other side of her gun, any of them for that matter.

He had business in town, people he wanted dead and that meant walking on her territory. From what he’d heard from the whispers and from his own research she wasn’t particularly friendly with those who tried to interfere with her work, that wouldn’t be a problem. If the lady wanted to cock a gun and murder a bunch of guys in cold blood then that was her prerogative, who was he to play saint and tell her it was wrong? No, she could take that up with devil boy.

It was impressive that she hadn’t been caught yet. Maybe it was rich coming from the big bad punisher and all but at least he had a purpose. Karen seemed to be doing it for the thrill, the adrenaline rush which Frank could understand but it made it easier to get caught. You get sloppy, too busy itching for another hit of those hormones and next thing you know you’re tucked away behind bars. No one had gotten close to her, not without losing a hand at least.

Frank had no intentions of getting in her way. She had her business and he had his own, if he had his way then he wouldn’t have to interact with anyone past a surface level conversation. He didn’t care about anyone's backstory, about the reason they decided to take the law into their own hands, he knew his own and that was good enough. This wasn’t the fucking Avengers, no need to team up or any of that bullshit.

There was a hotel near the edge of Hell’s Kitchen and it was going to be his home for the next week or so, just until he took care of the guys he’d been following for the past few weeks. People always seemed to return home just before they died, even when they didn’t know it was coming. Some kind of protective instinct, home is supposed to be a safe place but Hell’s Kitchen hadn’t been safe for a long time.

The streets may as well have been caked in blood, metaphorical and literal blood. Gunpowder and rotting meat, urine and vomit, the city stank and it was appropriate that this was the home for a couple of low lives. The quicker he got out the better, and avoiding as much attention from the locals as he could. Frank really wasn’t in the mood to have to fight it out with Red again, and with this killer queen around avoiding taking out her hits seemed like a good plan.

* * *

Frank had watched the sunrise every day since his family were buried. 3AM hit and he was wide awake, his head pounding as though he’d just had it slammed against a brick wall, so obviously the thing to do is get up. It was no longer a special moment or something to be treasured, the pink sky only reminded him of the staining of his little girl’s blood on his hands, the blood he still saw.

One second his face is splattered with blood and the next he’s staring down his alarm clock, sweat collecting across his hairline and the bridge of his nose. It’s always the same dream, going to sleep knowing he’ll watch his wife die once again after more times he’d ever wanted to count was a strange feeling.

Some days he was almost grateful to see her again for those few moments, where the world was peaceful and he had her in his arms. It all goes to shit though, her blood painted over him and then he’s slamming his alarm clock down into the bedside table just because it’s the first thing he sees.

He was staying in a nicer hotel than usual, motel rooms with barely enough room for him to stand in had become what he was used to but hey, if he’s going to wake up feeling like his heart going to explode right out of his damn chest, at least it’s on some nice expensive sheets.

There’s good water pressure, another thing he can’t expect from cheap motels. He couldn’t decide on whether he wanted to scold his skin or numb it completely so he went for a happy medium. The water serves as a distraction for a little while, not nearly for long enough but his skin started turning soft like paper mache and the water felt more like a nuisance than anything so he got out.

It’s only when the shower stops running that he remembered how silent everything was. There’s no ticking clock or honking car outside, he can’t hear strangers fucking in the next room or the footsteps on the floor above him. It’s all silent and it makes him face the emptiness, the complete and utter lacking. The room is big and has a TV, a nice desk and a lamp that actually fucking works but it’s all void. He doesn’t care.

The sun starts rising while Frank is out. There was something about the hotel room that unsettled him, it wasn’t too good for him and it sounded fucking stupid wording it like that anyways but it didn’t feel right. He’d gotten used to the bare minimum, anything more felt like a waste on him. He didn’t need much, a place to sleep and some running water and then he could survive. Room service was for people who wanted to rot away in their rooms, becoming mould on their Egyptian cotton sheets.

New York was never quiet, even when it appeared to be. You just need to listen close enough for the humming, fluorescent lights buzzing and rats scurrying around alleyways, the vibrations of music but not close enough to be able to distinguish a lyric or even the genre.

It was why Frank kept moving around, he couldn’t plant his roots somewhere like this where he’d already shed too much blood. It wasn’t that it bothered him cause little did anymore but it wouldn’t be what his family wanted, even in death he still tried to do in some twisted way what would be right for them.

The sun rose over this stinking city once more and Frank didn’t bother to look up at the sky. He knew like the back of his hand what it would look like, pink twisting into orange, the sun creating warm halos around the few clouds in the sky. It was almost always the same, part of him was tired of waking up for another sun rise. Maybe he didn’t have to.

A coke can rolled out in front of his feet and slowed to a halt, the tips of his shoes barely grazing it before Frank took a step back so he was out of view from the alley. One of those rats could have knocked it, a stray cat even but wherever he went it was like news spread like rot. He could name a few people who would love nothing more than to get his head and parade it round on a spike, pompous assholes, and on the off chance that there was someone down there waiting for him then shit, if someone wanted him dead then it wasn’t about to happen in a fucking alley.

His gun, which of course he had on him- he wasn’t a idiot, sat comfortably in the waistband of his dark jeans, covered by his jacket but easily retrievable. Before he had the chance to peek past the corner, a scruffy looking tabby cat came wandering out from the dark alley and collapsed in a fluffy pile beside the can.

Frank couldn’t stop himself from rolling his eyes. “Fuckin’ cat.” he mumbled to himself before retreating his hand away from his gun. It wasn’t normal for him to be on edge, something just felt wrong, gut feeling and all that shit. The city felt different from when he was last there, it had gotten dirtier, it was as though no one would care if he was back cause god forbid more death happen, god forbid they get taken away from the piss and bullet holes lining the streets.

He didn’t know where he was walking to, whether it was away or forwards something but his feet kept moving nonetheless. It had been a long time since he’d had to be sneaky, his life no longer depended on how gentle he could treat the ground. He no longer cared if the world heard him— _Here I am, fucker. Come and get me._

It was only when he actually listened to the sound of his boots against the pavement that he realised there was another pair of footsteps behind him.

_Click, click, click._

His reflex was to go for the gun in his waistband but he fought against it, not letting his first thought be the one that controlled him. It could easily be just a citizen, some woman who really didn’t need to have a gun pressed against her skull by some strange man. There was something in the way the heels sounded against the pavement that made him convinced that it wasn’t just some innocent lady walking the streets at dawn. There was purpose behind those steps, quick steps that somehow sounded exactly how and completely different from what he’d pictured.

“Can I just say, I love your work.”

The voice in his ear was soft, it might have almost been appealing if there hadn’t been the barrel of a gun pressed against the small of his back. Frank stopped dead in his tracks and she slotted herself with her legs either side of his left side, her hair brushing against his shoulder as she came closer to whisper in his ear. She smelt clean, like peppermint and her breath was warm against his otherwise cold skin.

He could go for his gun, he could try at least. He’d fought off bigger people with just his bare hands, clawing at their throat till he felt it snap between his palms, there was no way he couldn’t get himself out of this if he just fucking moved. Frank didn’t move though. He stayed completely still and stared forward, not because he was scared or didn’t want to die at this woman’s hands but because he didn’t want to.

“Come on, we’re going to have a chat. My place isn’t far, get walking.”

And then just like that, she turned him around in a way that he didn’t get a glimpse of her face and then pushed the gun harder against his back. Frank got the message. His feet that had no problem before walking without a cause now stutter to a start, the toe of his boot catching on the pavement almost making him trip, but he caught himself just before.

 _Great, fucking fantastic._ He doesn’t know what she wants with him, or even if he’s correct in assuming the name of the woman toying with him but what he does know is he should have just finished his job today. There was no need to take his time, he’d gotten comfortable and that was his mistake.

As stated her apartment wasn’t far at all, in fact it was only a few blocks down from where Frank was staying. It was an old brick red building, shadows of the other much taller buildings cast shadows across of it and before he had the chance to look to see if anyone was around, he walked into the apartment on his own accord.

It was reasonably clean inside, fast food bags and cigarette butts lined the stairs but it wasn’t anything too horrific. Frank felt the gun move from his back for just a second and he thought about just grabbing it from her, he still had the gun in his waistband which he assumed she hadn’t seen yet but for whatever reason, he didn’t. It really wasn’t because he feared her shooting him, that didn’t bother him in the slightest as it wasn’t as though he’d be leaving anyone important behind, no one would give a shit especially not himself.

Maybe it was because he was intrigued by the guts this lady had, she clearly knew him and by default would know what he was capable of, it took some balls to come up to someone on the street and threaten them if you knew they could hang you up on a meat hook and leave you to die without so much as a second thought.

The staircase seemed to go on forever, they managed to walk up them together and somehow in sync without so much as a word of discussion. There was no gun being pressed to his back anymore but he highly doubted it had been put away, and the way that the woman had slotted herself against him had put her directly in the way of getting his gun. Pushing her back down the stairs would be easy, might not kill her but it would knock her out or give some head trauma, enough to put him back in control of the situation.

Frank wasn’t interested in running away, he wanted to know what she wanted him for but god, he wasn’t a fan of having the power taken from him.

Eventually they reached her floor, three down from the top of the building and it only hit him then that she was showing him where she lived. That meant one of two things: she was planning on killing him anyways so he couldn't give the information to anyone or she just didn’t give a shit- Frank leant towards the former. She lead the way with his body, their feet perfectly in time with each others until she grabbed a fistful of his jacket and stopped him in front of a door.

He listened to the sound of her pulling keys out of her pocket, then got a flash of blonde as she ducked forward to unlock her door. It’s only once she kicked it open that she uses her grip on his jacket to pull him inside, almost stumbling over herself as Frank let his weight cause her to slide ever so slightly in her heels. At least that was what he thought she was doing at first.

The door slammed close and Frank looked around the apartment, checking for escape routes or if there was anyone else she might have called there. From what he could see it was empty, kind of cosy actually. There was paper with scribbled notes down all over the coffee table and couch in what must have been her living area, half empty mugs of coffee and the occasional bottle of beer as well. On the right side of the room there was a small balcony but he’d rather not have to jump from that, he could survive a lot but a 12 story drop was not one of those things.

Finally, now that’s there is some distance between them, Frank turned around to face the door. He was met with the sight of a blonde woman, her hair swaying around her collar bones which were covered by the black jumper she wore, she also was wearing a navy skirt and those black heels that to some people sounded worse than anything Hell could offer up. She didn’t look how he expected, it wasn’t as though she shied away from cameras but she managed to keep out of their way most of the time. It made it easier to do things like have an apartment, go to crowded bars when she needed a drink, stalk other criminals in the street without them knowing it was her.

“You’re a difficult man to track down, Frank.” Karen Page said, each hand full with a gun- Frank quickly realised when he patted the waistband of his jeans that she had stolen it, probably when they both stumbled through her door and he instantly became consumed with staking out his surroundings. He swallowed but said nothing at first, just watched as Karen kicked off her heels and walked past him as if he was a stranger on the street and not a well known murderer who she’d forced into her home. She didn’t look scared, then again Frank doubted he would be if he was her.

“Haven’t been in the city for long.” He answered simply. Karen disappeared out of the room for a few seconds and Frank stayed where he was, still taking in the small details of her home. There were two bookcases filled with books and photo frames, people who he had to assume were her family. She was young in one of the photos, all big blue eyes and a sunshine bright grin, another child around the same age sat beside her.

_We all have our demons, some keep them closer to us than others._

“I’m aware. There were whispers on the street that you were gone for good, but that’s never the case. You’re like a cockroach, Frank, it’s what the city turns us all into.” Karen walked back into sight and immediately he noticed the guns were gone, she really did expect him to just stay there by his own choice; and to her credit, that was exactly what he was doing. “We all keep coming back, to the filth. Feels like home, doesn’t it?” 

Frank didn’t know what to say to that, so he stayed quiet once again. He watched every move she made, how she seemed to glide around her apartment with ease and relaxation. Whatever it was she had planned it was obvious she was confident that it was going to work out, she wasn’t expecting Frank to attack her or to just walk out which he could very easily do. Her calmness was intriguing but aggravating at the same time.

“Listen, cut the shit. What do you want?” Karen tilted her head ever so slightly, her eyes narrowed as she continued to walk closer to him till they were about a foot apart.

“Do you know who I am?” First impressions were misleading and Karen was no exception. If you were to picture a woman capable of one of, if not the most heinous act a human could commit, it was likely someone like her would not pop into your mind first. She looked completely average, a pretty girl with pink tinged cheeks and matching lips, she wore clothes that wouldn’t be out of place on a secretary, Karen Page was normal in every sense of the word; Frank shouldn’t have known who she was.

But he did, of course he did.

“Like I said, been out of town.” Frank’s tone was teetering on the edge of teasing and it made Karen smirk, of course he’d be the kind to play dirty like that. She couldn’t say she didn’t expect it, like he’d done his research on her she’d done the exact same for him, at one point she had wanted to be a journalist after all.

The people who talked about Frank before he was known merely as The Punisher had said he had the capability of being more than just a killing machine, that he once had a sense of humour and a dry one at that, she supposed the murdering of ones family takes things like that away along with them.

“Well, let me fill you in.” Karen poked at Frank’s chest as though they were best friends from college and not strangers who had just met after she essentially kidnapped him, she then turned and walked towards the couch and the extensive paper trail all over it. Frank finally found his footing and followed after her, still on the lookout for any weapons or signs of something wrong but it was starting to click that she didn’t bring him here to harm him. She needed something, something only he could provide.

Frank picked up one of the stray pieces of paper laying around but before he could read any of the cursive notes scribbled down it was snatched out of his hand, earning him a glare from Karen who went back to gathering all the notes together. It wasn’t a particularly evil or menacing glare, it was the kind of look he used to get from Maria when he said something he shouldn’t have done in front of the kids.

His stomach twisted at the memory but he’d felt the pain many times before, by now he knew how to fight the sick feeling rising up in his chest, the wave of missing her came and went in a blink of an eye; just like how he’d trained himself to handle it.

“Sorry about the gun, by the way. I didn’t know how else to get you up here, you don’t come across as the kind of guy who willing comes up to a lady’s place, even if she asks nicely.” Karen waved her hands around aimlessly as she explained and Frank could do nothing but let out a small chuckle, utterly and completely confused about what her deal was.

It had a lot to do with everything he’d heard about her previously, stories about how heartless she’d been with a gun and her echoing laughter in the dark after a gunshot went off, he wouldn’t call her crazy but confusing, yeah she was that for sure. He wasn’t one to judge, there were few people in the world who understood why he did the things he did and even fewer who agreed with it, the right to judge anyone had been ripped away the second he took another’s life in the name of revenge.

Karen soon collected everything she needed together and collapsed down onto her couch, she crossed one leg over the other and then gathered her hair and pushed it all over one shoulder. For a few moments it was like she forgot Frank was there all together, she eventually looked up at him and nodded over to the armchair on the opposite side of the coffee table. After muttering something under his breathe, Frank went and sat down.

Finally, Karen began to explain herself.

“You have to be able to look after yourself here. New York will eat you alive and spit you back out, especially if you’re a woman. It’s why I got a gun in the first place, you’ll get taken into Hell’s Kitchen’s dark corners and never come back alive otherwise.” Karen began to explain and she looked so remarkably human, not a shadow in the night like Frank and the rest of the city had pictured her to be. “Do you ever regret what you started, Frank?”

“No.” Frank said after a second of thinking, this wasn’t the first time he’d been asked a question like this and even after all the blood and gore and pain of things, his answer had never once changed. He saw something sparkle in Karen’s eye before the corner of her mouth tilted up into a smirk.

“Neither do I, thought I would, it’s not like I planned my life to be this way...and I don’t think you did either.” Karen clasped her hands together on her lap and looked across to Frank, to say she was starstruck that he was in her living room would be untrue but she was glad he was there. Whether or not he was glad to be there was an entirely other story, one she didn’t care much about. “The first time was a blur, it all happened so fast I don’t remember much apart from the feeling of his hands on my hips...it was like a vulture gripping at some animal's corpse, just talons ripping into me and barely managed to pull my gun out.”

The list of people Frank thought were scumbags was long and grew often but top of the list were the men who actively seeked women to hurt, the men who got off on knowing they were a threat. He’d thought some horrific things in the years he had been alive, graphic descriptions of exactly how he was going to kill each and every person who had a hand in what happened to his family but not once, not even a single time had he considered hurting a woman.

It wasn’t because they were weak, or because he thought they needed protected—it was just because they shouldn’t have to live in fear of shit like that. Men were garbage, half of the time he thought the world would be better off without them but women? The women in his life had always made him better, they made sense of everything that went on within his head and softened his sharp edges.

_Good for her. He got what he deserved._

“I didn’t think it would feel...good. I liked it, I liked knowing that no other woman was going to be targeted by this bastard. But it was more than that.” Karen continued on, picking at her already chipped grey nail polish. It was trauma, she might not have been on the battlefield but the first time you kill another person, it haunts you. You can’t just get over it by playing it off as though it wasn’t a big deal, even if you ended up liking how it felt; there had been times where she thought that she liked it only as a way of coping, like it was an addiction she couldn’t shake off.

Karen looked up at Frank and tried to read his features, unsurprisingly she couldn’t tell what he was thinking but maybe that was for the better, at least for now. She hadn’t even gotten to the important stuff yet.

“That’s how I got started, cause I liked it. We have so many heroes out there trying to make the city a better place but as I said, we’re all cockroaches. You have to squash them or else they’ll just keep coming back. I don’t mind being the person to do that, they deserve it.” That was something Frank could understand, it lined up perfectly with how he handled things. Maybe that was why Karen had brought him here, it wasn’t like Daredevil was going to be able to handle listening about murder being talked about so casually, like it wasn’t such a sin.

“What has this got to do with me?” Frank finally spoke up, because as enlightening or whatever it was to hear Karen’s story, it really didn’t explain why she’d targeted him on the street. How long had she been watching him? Was she seeking help from him because they dealt with their pain in the same way? If that was the reason then she was going to be disappointed.

“I met a guy a few weeks back, for whatever reason I thought he was nice, charming even. It was probably the alcohol, I don’t go out to bars much when drinking at home is so convenient, but I went there that night for the normal-ness of it, I guess. Anyway, a long story short is that I ended up taking him back to my place.” Something flashed over her face, it wasn’t embarrassment or regret, something in between them crossed with anger. “When I woke up the next morning he was gone, as was half of my shit.”

_Jesus Christ._

_She brought me here at gunpoint just to kill the guy who robbed her._

“Listen-” Before Frank could say anything else, something about how he wasn't some hitman for hire, Karen was already talking again, she knew how petty and little her problem sounded but it was more than it appeared. It wasn’t the usual stuff that had been taken, if it had been her TV or phone then she wouldn’t have cared nearly as much, this had reached a far more personal level.  
  
“I ended up looking him up, after doing some research I found out he works for the Apollos.” The Apollos were a gang in specifically Hell’s Kitchen but had branches all over New York, they were money hungry guys who used primarily scare tactics to get the shit they wanted. The usual stuff, at least usual for the city: kidnappings with ransoms in the thousands, they were the primary source of all the muggings and assaults, they weren’t known for being killers but it wasn’t unheard of.

“Never came in contact with them.” Frank rarely targeted people who weren’t apart of what happened to him, it felt good taking out garbage human beings like them but it would never end otherwise and whether he liked it or not, there had to be an end to the war eventually.

“You said you’ve been out of the city, they’re pretty new but they grew like fungus and now they’re everywhere.” Karen explained before rifling through her notes, eventually she found the one she needed and leant over towards Frank. He eyed it up for a brief moment before taking it from her, their fingers brushing together ever so lightly. “To cut another long story short, a few months back there was this guy trying to manhandle this young girl into a van, she can’t have been more than twelve and I stopped him. For good, let’s just say. It turns out that that guy, well he was the leader of Apollos’ brother.”

Frank chuckled once more. It wasn’t that the situation was funny but Jesus, she knew how to make an enemy. If these guys were as big as she said then that was a bad choice of someone to piss off.

“I’m pretty sure he bugged my phone, I got rid of it as quickly as I could but he must have my details. I’m not an idiot, I don’t have lists of the people I killed lying around or anything too personal…” Her eyes flickered over to the bookcase where the photo frames stood, she swallowed before looking back to Frank. “It’s pretty easy to assume that they want me dead, my family as well. We don’t talk anymore for obvious reasons but I’m trying to get them to a safe place, somewhere where they can’t be tracked down.

 _For obvious reasons_ , Frank wondered if she meant the murders or what happened to her brother. Maybe it was both, maybe they were linked.

“...And this is who you are?” Frank said after processing everything she'd just explained, trying to make a map in his head of who these guys were and how this connected all to him. That smirk Karen wore so well returned and she leant over and snatched the note back from between Frank’s fingers. 

“I’m the woman you don’t fuck and then steal from. I don’t take it very well, I also don’t appreciate the idea of being murdered- call me a hypocrite.” Karen dropped the note back onto the pile on the coffee table before leaning back onto the couch. She didn't’ look like the kind of person who was worried about dying, it must have meant she was pretty damn confident in whatever plan she had cooked up. “And that is where you come in.”

Frank closed his eyes and held back a groan. This was the reason she brought him here, to do her dirty work. She didn’t just want one man killed, she wanted the whole damn lot taken out for even considering messing with her.

While you might have not pictured Karen when you thought about what a killer looked like, when it came to getting rid of gangs Frank Castle was top on the list. He took out the Dogs of Hell, the Irish mob and the Mexican cartel all by himself, could she be blamed for turning to him in a time like this? He wasn’t getting involved with her shitty decisions, there were people he had to focus on going after and couldn’t just drop it for some woman who frankly, he wasn’t all that keen on. Funny what having a gun held to you does to your impression.

“I’m not killing anyone for you.” Frank said before standing up, Karen quickly followed in his footsteps and stood up also. “Listen, lady, that’s your problem. I don’t deal with anyone else’s shit, I gotta enough stuff of my own.”

“I don’t want you to kill them for me.” Karen explained slowly and it only made Frank surer in his own decision. “I want you to kill them _with_ me. I’d do it myself with pleasure but I know when I’m outmatched. We’d work better as a team-”

“You said you loved my work.” Frank pointed out and for a moment Karen was confused, partly annoyed she had been interrupted but she nodded her head anyways. It wasn’t meant literally, it was just something she said spur of the moment, to catch Frank off guard. “You know then that I work alone, I do what I need to do then I move on. You’ll have to find someone else.” And with that, Frank pushed past Karen to go retrieve his gun.

The room she’d been in turned out to be her bedroom, both his gun and her own lay neatly on her bed and he contemplated taking hers as well. He didn’t as while he wasn’t going to fight her battles, she was going to have to fight them herself and a gun would be helpful- not that he doubted she didn’t have more, he had spotted the gun safe in the corner of the room after all.

“Good luck, Karen.” Frank tossed Karen her gun after he exited her gun, his own was back tucked in his waistband and without second thought he headed for the door. It occurred to him that Karen could shoot him, could easily hold him there at gunpoint if she wanted but she wasn’t going to. Now that he’d heard her story he knew the kind of people she killed and she might have been angry or upset he was going to do as she wished, there was sense to what she did, a code she followed even if she bent it often.

They might have been similar in that aspect, but not similar enough.

Frank closed the door behind him and Karen was left alone in her apartment, the sunlight of a new day streaking in through the window.


	2. Chapter Two: The Persuasion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello, me again, at the start of another chapter. i hope you are enjoying this story and how it's turning out!
> 
> also i wanted to say that this is my first time writing karen and frank on a scale bigger than just like a thousand words, im still getting a taste for their characters in terms of how i write them and am trying my best to keep them in character. so yeah, i always get worried when writing for something new that im not doing good enough but um yeah just trying my bestest!!! i read a lot of people's meta on frank especially cause he was the person i was most scared to write.
> 
> check me out on tumblr at ["maggiemurdock"](http://maggiemurdock.tumblr.com/) and on [ patreon](https://www.patreon.com/peachmaisie) !!

Karen hadn’t expected Frank to agree to her terms right away. He needed to be convinced, he might not have known it yet but he was going to help her out; she was certain. It was a rarity that she got to show off how persuasive she could be, she didn’t spend much time conversing with others when the people she came in contact with most often were as important to her as the dirt on the bottom of her heels.

Life could be lonely, then again it always had been. Even before she retreated to a life filled with blood and bullets, Karen had never felt quite right. It was as though she was playing a role, another thing she was good at, pretending as though she was happy with the little mediocre life she’d written for herself in New York. It wasn’t like the one she lived now was any better, cooped up in an apartment under a stranger’s name with nothing but books and the TV to keep her company.

Boredom wasn’t why she killed. That was too simple, and frankly too obvious. Sure, there might have been some nights she went out without a target in mind but that was rare. Karen was a planner, she liked knowing every little detail about someone before deciding to kill them; the good, the bad and the ugly.

If he spent his nights beating his wife until she bled then she wanted to know about the flowers he got her the next day, the cheap red roses from the gas station he bought just so she might drop to her knees and blow him. There had been very few instances that her research had stopped her from killing, their dirty laundry always ended up being far worse than any little piece of positivity or light they had about them.

Digging into people was something Karen did like second nature, some days it felt more like she was digging her own grave rather than anyone else's but she continued, always.

That was how she got the idea to recruit Frank into helping her with her little problem. She had done plenty of research into him like she did with all the other big names in New York. She knew everything from the time he spent in Afghanistan, the massacre of his family and even pieces here and there about his troublesome childhood, how his violent lifestyle wasn’t a new thing at all. He might not have been murdering folk with guns as a teenager but Karen wasn’t surprised at what she saw when she got a hold of his juvenile crime report.

He was the man for her job, there was no doubt about that. She just needed to get him on the same page, Karen wasn’t big on the idea of working as a team either because things got messy and people got hurt, namely the people who weren’t supposed to but in some way she already trusted him. Their brand of justice was eerily similar, if anyone was to understand the desire to take out anyone who could hurt her or her family then Christ, it had to be him.

* * *

Frank had planned to take his time with his last few targets, keep them on edge until he had the perfect opportunity but he just wanted to get them over with. Why bother letting them squirm? If he just finished it then he could leave the city and not have to worry about anyone else deciding that they needed his help. He hadn’t gotten the answers he might have needed from Karen, like had she been stalking him since he got into the city or had news really just spread that fast about him being back? If that was the case then he needed to do this now before they fled the city and he had to go back on a wild goose chase.

It was easy to keep Karen off of his mind when getting ready, the routine of choosing the right gun for the occasion helped, rough fingertips gliding over bullets as he counted up the ammunition. It was only ever his family he thought about before killing, not himself or about if his soul could handle another blow to it. Killing was the easy part, he didn’t flinch when someone begged for their life but he had to remind himself why he was doing this, that he wasn’t crazy— that he wasn’t as bad as the people who took his family from him.

He had a plan, somewhat of one at least. There was no need to make some big spectacle of the whole event if he could just do it quietly, even if very few secrets could be kept in Hell’s Kitchen and it wouldn’t take long at all for their deaths to become public knowledge.

They had a hideout in some warehouse on the edge of the city, it was outside of the neighborhood and that probably meant they thought they were being sneaky, no point hiding out where everyone would expect them to be. Frank wasn’t just anyone, he knew about the hideout long before he chased them back into the city so it was the first stop on his list. All he had to do was wait until night struck, make certain they were dead then get his stuff and book it out of the city.

He didn’t have a plan where he would go next, there was still work he needed done, parts of his past coming back to haunt him but they could wait. Home was no longer home and while it felt that there could never be another, he had to try.

Coming back to New York always left him with a sense of nostalgia that kept him awake at night, it also kept his hands steady when aiming a gun; you can’t pick and choose the paths your brain takes you upon but you can adapt them and make them work.

It was around half ten that Frank finally left his hotel room, the one he’d been sat in since around eight am, doing nothing but preparing what he needed and most importantly himself. The act of murder as cold as he did it had never been the problem, at the end of the day knowing these scumbags were dead was a relief but like any good soldier would tell you, there was more to the battle than just the fight.

The drive over to the warehouse was long and quiet, the radio wasn’t turned off completely but instead quietly playing some acoustic version of yet another song Frank didn’t know the words to. It served at something to ground him, the gentle strumming of a guitar bringing him back to ground level whenever his head started to drift off somewhere else. It wasn’t like him to be so out of it, remaining so focused was part of what made it possible to do the things that he did, he had to be or else he wouldn’t have been around to finish what he started.

Frank hadn’t always been so impulsive with his choices, he was stubborn by nature but it was only after his family, after he had been shot that the way he could control his stubbornness went completely out of the window. He was somehow a deep thinker and then the next second could act extremely impetuously. Things could be so black and white for Frank, the people he needed gone had to be gone, there was no throwing them in jail or some similar bullshit but that wasn’t how he looked at his whole life.

His thoughts would drift back to Karen, how there was this woman who was in danger— her life was at stake and he had walked out. It wasn’t his business, that he stood by firmly but what was the point in everything he was doing? It was to seek revenge, to get rid of every single person who had their hands in what happened to his family but what if there was more to it?

Of course there was, he was trying to make up for how he didn’t do his job as a father and a husband. The guilt was never going to leave, it had spread vines to every corner of his soul and was clinging to every move he made and every choice he took. Killing people wasn’t going to change that but what was the alternative? There was none, impulsive remember? First thought, best thought, at least that was how Frank had to view his thought process.

So there was this woman, her life was being threatened and she’d asked for his help. Maybe in a different scenario he would have helped her, his hands were so stained with blood that at this point what was a few more throats cut? That was the point though, he was scared both of the war and its end, it was clear to anyone that knew him that Frank didn’t exactly have the most care for his own life but at the same time he couldn’t be doing this forever...he just couldn’t

Her battle was not his own. Saying she was a tough girl would be an understatement and while he felt for her, he couldn’t just be throwing himself into other people’s lives like that. It was both too intimate and too risky. He couldn’t form bonds without letting people into the cataclysm that was his life, it wasn’t worth having anyone else get hurt. She would be fine, he had no doubts he’d be hearing stories of Karen being whispered well outside the city, stories of her heels and ruthless tongue.

Frank’s van slowly drove up the road at the end of which sat the warehouse, all big and black and menacing looking in the near distance. It had been used to store household and industrial appliances, it still might have been for all he knew but it was also being used as a hideout. Cause of the long and winding, empty roads that lead up to the building it was out of the eyesights of other gangs, or from people like Frank who’d took it upon himself to get rid of them for good.

Thankfully Frank wasn’t nearly as dumb as people thought he was.

He peered down the scope of his rifle after getting into the back of his van, allowing him more space to move and check out potential movement in those large empty windows. They gave him a small look inside the warehouse, nothing major but if someone walked in front of them (which they would if they were stupid) then that was it. If required he would stay there all night, even longer if they decided to be pussies about it. This was the part of war you didn’t get prepared for, you think it's all fighting for your life and your country but it’s waiting, it’s the echoing silence of waiting for something to happen and preparing for that.

When you first walked into the warehouse there was a large waiting area, big enough for people to store shipments and such until they could move them into the actual storing areas around back. Frank hadn’t been inside the building but he’d looked at plans briefly, just to get an idea of the layout and what the weak points of the building were.

They could either be in the front section which would be smarter for them if they wanted to keep an eye out for people outside but if they were truly trying to hide then going back to what felt like the endless expanse of shelving and shit to hide around would be the better option. He could get them without getting out of his van if they were moving around the windows but if they were in the storage area then he’d have to go hunt them down.

As it turned out, Frank didn’t have to think too hard about it at all. The work had already been done for him, he just didn’t know it yet.

He hadn’t been there for more than forty five minutes before there was movement in one of the lower windows, when he looked to it expecting to find glimpse of someone walking past he instead saw blood smeared across the window where someone’s body had slid up against it. It wasn’t as though they’d been shot and fallen backwards, they must have slumped up against the wall beside the window and something had pushed their corpse to come into few.

There was someone already in there.

Someone who knew he would be outside and someone who was close enough to know who he wanted dead. Nowadays there was really no one who knew details of his life like that, he kept out of others lives for their sakes and for his own.

The body jolted as though it had been kicked and then slid down the window again, more blood smearing from the gunshot wound to his head. It was clearly to get his attention and while it wasn’t the first time someone had left him a calling card, it was the first time it had been done so blatantly in front of his face.

If someone wanted him dead then they would have tried to do it already, it had briefly occurred to him that maybe this was all just an attempt at his life but if that were the case then they had that chance already. He’d been sat there waiting for almost an hour, that was plenty of time and if it were an ambush, you don’t tend to want your prey to know they’re being preyed upon.

Frank wasn’t what you could call curious, he could walk away from certain things that others would be dragged into for the sake of knowledge or some other bullshit but this was different. It wasn’t curiosity that pulled him into the front seat of the an and got him driving closer to the warehouse, it was that impulsive nature he was still subconsciously getting used to, Frank may have always gone inside to see who knew he’d be there but he wouldn’t have been so careless about it if he had a single piece of himself left that cared about himself.

No one had come through the front doors since he had gotten there and the only other way in was a back entrance that lead down a few various hallways, doors to small storage rooms on either side and eventually leading to the main entrance. Going that way was much smarter than just kicking down the main entrance and going in armed but he has not certain of what he would find.

Without turning his headlights on, Frank drove as quietly but quickly as he could to a little in front of the entrance. It was open, one of those doors you needed a code to which meant someone had just left in a hurry or they’d left the door open purposefully for him. In case the first one was true, he checked his surroundings from the safety of his van even if he knew it wasn’t necessary. No one was out there, he just wanted there to be so he could leave.

He knew deep in his stomach what was going on, who had just took out his targets. All he could do until he got inside was hope there was no expected thanks, he had plenty to say but that was not one of the things.

The hallways into the building were long and dark, echoing nothing but silence at first but the deeper he went into the building the louder something got. Tapping, that methodical sound that Frank was starting to understand how it could drive someone mad. He paused at the doors leading into the main area, not because he was scared or preparing to shoot but he was just fucking annoyed.

He’d had some fights with Red about morality, right and wrong and all that shit and believe him, Frank had on multiple occasions been pissed off enough to just knock him straight out but this was a different kind of annoyance. It was the kind where it was physically demobilising, he had to pause and take a minute to process just how annoyed he was. There was almost a bit of admiration in there as well because Frank didn’t get annoyed that often anymore, he got angry but annoyed was more juvenile, it was a softer kind of anger.

_Click, click, click._

“Back at my place, I told you that you were difficult to track down.” Karen’s voice echoed out a few seconds after Frank kicked the doors open, walking out gun first and eyes scanning around the room for here. They first landed on the corpse he’d seen from outside, it lay slumped over in a pile just below the window, the puddle of blood was small but only because most of it was staining the wall where he had been shot and then the window of course. “These guys? Much easier.”

She wasn't going to try and kill him. Frank put his handgun back in its holster before running a hand through his cropped hair in exasperation. The issue wasn’t so much that she’d taken the time to purposefully interfere with his life and his mission, (that was a problem, a big one but somehow not the biggest) it was that she was so persistent. Karen couldn’t take no for an answer, and considering the people she killed that was pretty fucking rich.

“You wouldn’t have come back for no reason, and it wasn’t too hard to find out what that reason was.” Frank finally looked to the direction Karen’s voice was coming from, she was leaning up against the main desk with her gun laying beside her and what he assumed to be her coat hanging off the back of the chair.

“Christ’s sake…” What else was there to say? She really didn’t quit, he hadn’t expected her to be nearly as persistent or at least to do something like this. There was three bodies laying around the place, huge men with guns and their brains splattered across them like a kid’s first piece of art. Karen was good at what she did, that wasn’t a surprise but it make it even more frustrating to have her trailing after him like a lost puppy.

She was still wearing the same thing from earlier that day, the navy skirt and black jumper and those same heels, not a spec of blood on any of it. It didn’t look as though she had any more guns on her, just the pistol laying on the desk and that in itself was a ballsy move.

If this was supposed to be an attempt at showing how she needed his help then it was misguided for certain. All Frank could see was a girl who wouldn’t stop at anything to get what she wanted, a woman who was dangerous and hard working and that combination was deadly.

It sounded a lot like someone he knew.

“How long have you been following me?” Frank finally asked one of the questions that had been plaguing him, he had plenty more where that came from but this was the one he cared most about. He didn’t see Karen as a threat, not because he thought she couldn’t hurt him but because she didn’t want to; that could change if he kept disappointing her more and more.

“I haven’t been following you, just keeping tabs. It’s only been for a few weeks, after I learnt I was being targeted.” Karen replied before straightening up and taking a few steps towards Frank, leaving her gun on the desk behind her.

She was a planner after all, that had been made abundantly clear but perhaps what she didn’t show as often was that impulsive streak she also had. It wasn’t as strong as Frank’s but there were occasions where all her thought and planning, her hours of research went out of the window and she’d pull the trigger without a second of thought. And she didn’t feel bad afterwards, she was confident about all her kills but strangely those were some of the ones she trusted most.

Karen didn’t know Frank well enough to judge his character properly but from what she’d experienced, they were alike in many ways. What one lacked, the other could make up for, she didn’t want to become some crime fighting duo especially considering they were the ones committing the crimes but together, for one single day they could put the fear in god in those who thought it a good idea to even think about taking a hit on her life.

“You know, uh, I don’t think you need my help.” Frank chuckled lightly as he gestured round to the various dead bodies around them, all with a gunshot wound directly to the brain. It was as though they were playing some silly children’s game, cat and mouse or some bullshit, Frank tried to stay out of her way and Karen would follow begging to be played with, begging that he give in to what she wanted.

“You don’t know these guys like I do, Frank.” The way she said his name made something curdle in his stomach, it was something he’d noticed she did a lot—something to make him feel as though they were more than just strangers whose paths had crossed by force. “Who else is going to help me? Do you believe that if I gave Daredevil a ring that he’d drop his no kill code and hop across rooftops to come help me? You are the only person in this city who understands, who knows the law doesn’t work and understands that we need to get these assholes before they get us first.”

“Christ, Karen.” Frank rubbed his hand across his clenched jaw and Karen took the opportunity to get closer, she wasn’t approaching him like a newborn dear but rather the way you approach your own reflection, when you see yourself after being stuck in the rain and everything has been washed away; when you finally see yourself for who you are.

“I’m not forcing you into anything, I took care of your business so if you want to leave the city now then you can. But I’m going to ask you to help me, just once. The city will be safer, I’ll be safer and you might not care about either of those things but you can still help me do it. I know where these guys will be a few days from now, we can cut the head off the snake and then it’ll be like you were never here.”

If the Apollos were as bad as Karen said and he could do something about it, wasn’t it his duty to do it? They both targeted men who took things, who stole money and lives and anything else they wanted, this gang encompassed everything Frank hated and so even if it wasn’t for Karen’s sake or his family’s, if there was something to be done then he had to do it. He didn’t have to be happy about it, didn’t have to enjoy it like he enjoyed killing and toying those who wronged him but he could stop something horrible from happening.

Frank could not handle another dead body in his arms because he failed to keep them safe, he knew nothing about Karen apart from what she wanted people to know but the weight of her life would be too heavy to carry on his shoulders. He could take lives without issue but too many people had died because he didn’t save them, there was a complex there he had yet to even begin to try and cope with.

“How did you get here?” Frank changed the subject to give him some time to consider what it was he was agreeing too, Karen smiled as though she already knew.

“I got a taxi and walked the rest of the distance, I was hoping that you could give me a lift home.” Karen’s confidence was an act, it wasn’t completely fabricated but there was an element of boldness that didn’t come naturally. In the way that she protected herself and others disposing of those who could cause harm, this was a way of protecting what little of herself she had left that hadn’t been picked apart.

Some of the things she said were just so absurd Frank couldn’t do anything but laugh, she was exactly that— absurd.

“Bold assumption.” It was as though the more time he spent around her, the more he eased up, it wasn’t a conscious thing he was doing especially when he still hadn’t decided whether or not he was going to take up her offer but there was something about her that was different than others. Frank wasn’t curious, but if he ever were to be it would be about whatever about Karen made her so intriguing and prone to swallowing up his thoughts.

“Is it a bold assumption to say we are leaving them here?” Karen asked as though they were chatting about laundry and it made Frank chuckle once more, that feeling of affectionate annoyance tugging at his chest for just a second before he nodded and began walking back the way he had entered.

“Yeah...yeah, leave ‘em.” The sound of Karen’s heels on the ground echoed but not in that steady rhythm he was getting used to, this was rushed as she hurried over to grab her coat and gun; if he didn’t know better Frank would have assumed someone had killed those guys beforehand and Karen had just turned up.

They made it back to his van with silence, as much silence as there could be with his boots and her heels now echoing out along the hallways. There was still tension, more so from Frank than Karen, in her mind she was still certain that he would end up helping her but he was not so sure.

Karen climbed into the passengers seat of his van and eyed up the rifle still perched in between the seats, she pulled the seat belt on and for a few seconds Frank eyed her up from outside. In his head or in whispers it was so much easier to decide that he wanted nothing to do with her, that she was trouble he didn’t need and didn’t have to get involved in but it was when she was right there in front of him that he struggled.

“Were you waiting in there long?” Frank asked a little into the drive back into the city, it was darker now that it had been when he had first arrived and the lights radiating off from the city shone through the windshield like knock off stained glass. He glanced over to Karen to see her leaning her head up against the window, the lights from the street lamps illuminating her face. She looked relaxed, like when you’re a kid coming back from a long trip and all you want to do is sleep.

It was a flaw, but Frank cared too quickly. It could of have something to do with the lack of interaction he had with others (by choice or not) because when he did get close to someone, on a surface level or not, that was when he started caring. It wasn’t a good thing, the people he cared about always ended up getting hurt, and while he wasn’t dumb enough to think he was cursed or something it fucking felt like it some days.

“I got there an hour before you did.” Karen replied simply, continuing to stare out the window at the passing world. “You took your time.”

“Yeah, guess I did.” This time Karen did turn to look at him, his eyes were focused on the road but there was a softness in his expression. He was still undoubtedly bugged but it made Karen smile, he was more annoyed at what he was doing to do instead of what she’d already done. There were plenty of other ways to be persuasive but this was her favourite.

They didn’t speak much after that, there was plenty to be said but the dawning realisation that there would be time for that was slowly coming down on Frank. He was going to doing this, there was no point in trying to argue with himself or count off the reasons he had decided to put himself out there for this woman he only met that day.

He wasn’t happy about it but they could be quick, do what needed to be done and then never cross paths again. She would be safe and he would be gone without another unnecessary death weighing him down, it wasn’t an ideal situation but wasn't that just the story of Frank’s life.

Eventually he pulled up a few blocks down from Karen’s apartment, not wanting to make it so blatantly obvious where she lived in case someone was watching. There was heavy silence within the van once Frank turned the engine off, he expected Karen to start giving details about how they were going to do this thing even though he’d never actually agreed to anything but instead she just pulled a small piece of paper out of her pocket and handed it over to him.

“Thank you.” Her voice was soft, it was like that always but there was more genuineness this time. Frank turned the note around between his fingers while she undid her seat belt and started to get out of the car.

“For what?” Frank asked before she shut the door, instead of replying Karen just raised her eyebrows momentarily with a smile before starting to walk down the street. He watched her until she turned the corner and disappeared from sight, a swish of her blonde hair the last thing to catch his eye. Then he was alone again, the sound of the city around him muffled from his home inside the van.

He sighed, something he found himself doing plenty around Karen, and unfolded the paper he’d been given. In her scribbled handwriting she’d described the time she wanted him to come around to her apartment, what she wanted him to bring and her phone number at the bottom.

Leaving was still an option, he could go back to his hotel and grab what little he had and then just leave, go find the next thing that would inevitably come around. That was his life, one fight after the other and to think there would ever be an end to that was stupid, it was all he’d ever known even amongst the few moments he got to be a husband and a father.

He wouldn’t be leaving to avoid the fight but instead go find his own, it wouldn’t be the act of a coward but instead the act of the realist. Karen brought her fight on herself, she made her decisions as to who she wronged and it had come back to bite her, Frank hadn’t had a choice like her. He made the choice to get revenge but was there ever a choice to begin with? Could he have ever just sat back and done nothing, his life was just the illusion of choice, that impulsiveness once again making it to be one only option to do something.

Frank could leave, but he wouldn’t. The choice had already been laid out for him, even when he thought there were more to pick from. She needed his help and he was going to give it, after that he would be gone and the city he once called a home would be better off for it.

Karen Page and Frank Castle, working together to take out one of New York’s most prominent gangs, oh the reporters were going to have a field day with this one—Karen smiled going up the stairs to her apartment, _this was going to be fun._

**Author's Note:**

> if you want more then please leave a kudos and comment, recommend to your friends, all that lovely jazz.
> 
> check me out on tumblr at ["maggiemurdock"](http://maggiemurdock.tumblr.com/) and on [ patreon](https://www.patreon.com/peachmaisie) !!
> 
> i hope you enjoyed!!


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